Article 230
by ayeofnewt
Summary: It's cold tonight...you can't sleep outside." "I know," there was a slight crease between Klaus' brows as he answered, "...but if I pick up a date, I'll get a place to sleep AND I can get high." He grinned bitterly. "If I'm lucky he might even throw in breakfast." The story of how Klaus ended up with solicitation charge on his record. Prequel to For the Record. (Can stand alone)


It's cold tonight."

"How would you know?" Klaus asked, his breath clouding in the frozen air. Ben gave him a pointed look and he grimaced. "Point taken."

"Not to mention, it's December," Ben added.

Do you have a point or are you being a know-it-all?" Klaus rolled his eyes, trying to rub his arms discreetly.

"You can't sleep outside tonight," Ben spoke quietly, but firmly.

"I know," there was a slight crease between Klaus' brows as he answered, looking away for a moment before he suddenly straightened, plastering a shit-eating grin on his face. "Guess we'll be living the high life tonight, Benny. Sleeping in a bed and everything." He pushed away from the wall he'd been leaving on and started down the sidewalk, Ben trailing behind.

"Are we going to the shelter then?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Nah."

"Klaus⏤"

"You know they don't like me there. I got kicked out last time remember?"

"That's because you were high, Klaus."

"They still told me not to come back."

"They said not to come back while you were high . And you're not."

Klaus made a face. "Unfortunately."

He turned the corner and Ben realized where they were. "Klaus! Come on, just go to the shelter. They'll let you in and you'll be safe for the night." He tried to tug on Klaus' arm only for his hand to pass through.

"True," Klaus granted in mock seriousness, "but if I pick up a date, I'll get a place to sleep AND I can get high." He grinned bitterly. "If I'm lucky he might even throw in breakfast."

"The shelter would give you breakfast too. If you hurry you might even make dinner."

Klaus made a face but didn't respond. He only walked faster, running his shaky hand through his hair.

"You know you could have a safe place to sleep tonight, right? And you're purposefully choosing not to." Ben said savagely, letting his frustration seep through. The look on Klaus' face made him almost immediately regret it.

"My choice, sure," he said, his voice quiet but hard, "tell that to her." He jerked his head backwards to indicate the ghost that had been trailing him for the better part of an hour, her slit throat making it impossible to understand the wet, garbling noises she was making. Her relative silence made her easier to deal with than some of the other spirits, but her endless crying and bleeding was starting to drain on Klaus all the same. A person could only stare at a walking tragedy for so many hours before they started to lose it a little.

Ben looked back at her silently. He wished he could talk to her, but it was as if neither of them had enough material to interact together without something to ground themselves to⏤ i.e. without Klaus. Looking back to him, Ben studied the dark circles under Klaus' eyes and the way his cheekbones seemed to stand out more than usual. He let his protests and suggestions die unsaid and fell silently into step next to Klaus.

Officer James Parton shifted from foot to foot, letting out a huff of frozen air. Overall, he approved of the Chief's caution for being accused of entrapment, but on days like this he would have liked a mission that was more in-and-out. Things would go much faster if he was allowed to be the one to approach someone for sex.

A moment later, he retracted his wish guilty. He shouldn't be looking to arrest anyone if he didn't have to⏤ hadn't he felt so morally superior back in the warmth of the precinct, arguing that the tactic of fighting prositution by arresting street walkers was a misuse of justice? He could hear his own words taunting him. Shouldn't the force be working on prosecuting the johns who took advantage of people with little other choice? Of course, his suggestions had not been well received, which brought him to where he was now⏤ freezing his ass off playing bait for some stressed out single mother trying to make her food stamps last another week.

Watching the tired-looking women smile as men called them revolting names, and kids who barely looked old enough to have bought the cigarettes they passed between each other as they attempted to look seductive while shivering from the cold, James noted with no satisfaction, I was right.

James shifted his weight again, reminding himself the plan was to pull out if he didn't get any hits in the next thirty minutes, for fear of attracting too much attention.

"Come on, B," Klaus whined, "Just one drag. I'm freezing."

"Fine," B rolled their eyes, passing the cigarette over to him.

"Thanks!" Klaus grinned, "I owe you a drag when I have a pack."

"At this point you owe me a pack," B told him flatly.

Klaus laughed, passing the cigarette back as a car pulled up beside them.

"Hey, Darling," the man inside drawled, grinning at them. "Do you know where I can find a good time?"

"Which darling are you talking to?" B asked, tossing their head and curing their cigarette artfully in their fingers.

"You, Darling," he responded, his smile stretching wider as he leaned forward. "So, do you think you can help me out?"

"Sure, baby, let's have fun." B turned to Klaus, handing him the cigarette. "Looks like your lucky day." They winked and walked around the car to slide into the passenger seat.

Klaus let out a huff of amusement, taking another drag and holding it in as long as possible, trying to warm himself from the inside. "That's one way to look at it. I got half a cigarette, but no bed."

"Are you sure B is going to be ok?" Ben asked, looking after the car uneasily.

"Yeah," Klaus said, with a slight note of hesitation. "I think I've seen that guy around before. No one's said anything about staying away from him."

Ben looked unconvinced but Klaus wasn't paying attention to him anymore. The street was thinning out. Traffic was lighter than usual, it seemed like the richies didn't like being out in the cold any more than he did. If he didn't get picked up soon, Klaus was going to be spending the night on the street whether he liked it or not. He looked up and down the sidewalk nervously.

Across the street, a girl got into a rust-bucket of a car that quickly peeled away from the curb. The street went quiet, only a few people were milling around now, hoping they would still get a date. Some had given up, trailing off to try their luck somewhere else, or if they had an apartment, go home.

Panic growing, Klaus looked down the sidewalk to the creep that had been hanging around for the last hour. He hadn't approached anyone, or said anything, the entire time he'd been there. He just watched everyone in a weirdly intense way, shifting his weight every once in a while. Klaus thought he'd seen the guy mutter to himself at some point, but to be fair, he wasn't really in a position to judge someone for that.

The guy had to be fifty at least, and his weird vibe had been enough to keep anyone from risking it with him, but Klaus was getting desperate. He hesitated for a minute, weighing the pros and cons. He seemed like the type who'd be into some weird stuff⏤ not that Klaus was against getting kinky, but the Creep didn't seem the type to care about how much fun his partner was having. True, he didn't seem to be haunted, but that wasn't a promise for his future intentions. Every serial killer has to start somewhere, Klaus thought dully. Despite his weakened condition and lack of recent practice, Klaus was fairly confident that the sixteen or so years of training Reginald had put him though would allow him to put up a good fight at the very least. Though, he realized, sizing up the large frame of the man down the block, probably not good enough of a fight to get away if he was pinned.

So in summation, Klaus analyzed, cons; the guy seems like a creep, is unlikely to be gentle, might be a budding serial killer; and pros⏤ . The wind gave a particularly hard gust, seeming to push straight through the fabric of his coat and his very skin. Klaus shuttered, extinguishing the butt of his cigarette on the wall next to him. Getting murdered might be a faster death than hypothermia, he thought with a sharp smile at his own black humor. He started down the black, ignoring the protests of Ben, who seemed to have figured out what Klaus was about to do a moment before he'd decided.

James was just getting ready to call it a bust when he noticed the boy eyeing him from up the street. Oh, come on, Kid, he thought, Stay where you are, or better yet, go home...If he has a home, the back of his brain whispered and he winced. Staring down the street, he tried to channel his thoughts to the kid, begging him not to approach. Apparently, he did not have psychic abilities, because a moment later the kid rubbed out his cigarette and started towards James, smiling coyly.

Fuck.

"Hey, Honey," the kid, the absolute child, James thought helplessly, God he can't be any older than Charlie. "Are you feeling a little lonely tonight?"

Knowing he was being watched, James answered, "I guess you could say that."

"Mmm," the kid gave him an overly sympathetic look and took a step closer. "That's such a shame, no one should be alone so close to the holidays. Especially someone as handsome as you."

James felt sick. "I don't know if I'd say that."

The kid shook his head, and he leaned forward and patted his arm, "I would," he smiled, blinking up through his eyelashes. "Do you think I could help keep you company tonight?"

The nail in the coffin. James resolved himself. "That depends, what were you thinking?"

"Well," he started, seeming thrown off by the question, "There's this nice little motel just around the corner. Even at an hourly rate it won't cost much to spend the rest of the night, it's half gone already. I'll even give you a discount, on account of the time. And how handsome you are." He winked. "What do you say, hmm? A hundred for the night? Course it may be a little more depending on what kind of games you like to play." He smiled, "But I'll tell you what, throw in breakfast, and I'll give you a little morning delight to go with your doughnut."

James closed his eyes briefly, feeling disgusted with the character he was playing, a man who would look at the child standing in front of him see a toy. He made a quick motion with his hands, stepping back from the kid who looked confused. With moments, his partner was at his side, holding his badge out.

"You're under arrest for solicitation."

"Fuck." Ben articulated exactly what Klaus was thinking.

The kid took a small step back, staring with wide eyes at the badge. He looked back to James who pulled out his own badge. The kid sagged, raising his hands slightly in surrender. As Rob read the kid his rights, James had to bite back an apology, feeling like in doing his duty, he'd broken his oath.

Ben rode with him in the back of the unmarked car, silently watching Klaus, who kept his eyes down. He wondered why he felt more ashamed now having been caught, then he did when Ben saw him get away with it.

In the front, James rubbed his hands together absent-mindedly, trying to warm the stiffness from his fingers.

"Here," Rob said laughing as he turned up the heat to full. "You must have been freezing out there! I swear, we were about to call it off out of fear of frostbite when our friend here came up to you. Glad your suffering didn't go to waste, huh?"

James nodded vaguely, watching the kid in the rearview mirror shiver awkwardly with his hands behind his back. He wasn't sure if he was imagining the blue tint to his lips or not.

At the precinct, James volunteered to handle the processing. He lead the kid to his desk and rearranged the handcuffs so he was attached to the chair by one hand. Neither of them seemed to want to look at the other. James pulled up the paperwork before hesitating, his hands hovering over the keys.

"How old are you, Kid?"

"Eighteen," he muttered, picking at the skin around his black nails.

Too young, but better than what James had feared. Still, it meant this would go on his permanent record. Speak of, "What's your name?"

"Klaus Hargreeves."

Pulling up the file, James scanned the past charges, all committed when he was a minor, which wasn't all that surprising considered the kid had only been eighteen for a couple months. There were a few minor possession charges and one count of petty theft⏤ it appeared he'd been caught shoplifting a sweatshirt from the mall. The story etched out before him was familiar and unsurprising in its commonality. God, James was tired.

He looked at the kid, who seemed even younger under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights. The yellow light revealed that the dark bags under his eyes came from more than makeup, and cast every one of his too prominent bones into sharp relief. The kid stared at his lap, his shoulders curled forward in a total absence of the confidence and flamboyance he'd shown before.

"Well," James started. The kid flinched. "Considering that this is your first offense⏤"

The kid's head shot up, seeming to forget his embarrassment as he gave James an incredulous look.

"— as an adult," James continued, "I think I can let you off with a warning."

There was silence as James was stared at with wide eyes.

"But don't let me catch you out there again, ok?" he finished, half in order to comply to his obligations as an officer, half in selfish hope that he wouldn't have to drag the kid in again and be forced to charge him.

"I⏤ I won't, Officer," the kid said finally shifting in his seat. He looked more nervous than he had when he thought James was about to charge him. James frowned slightly, watching him. The kid went still under his gaze, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor just to the side of James' desk. "Is there something I can do to thank you, Officer?" he asked, his whisper loud in the half-deserted bullpen.

James leaned as far away as he could in the cramped quarters, "No!"

A flinch.

Softer he repeated, "No. There's nothing you have to do, Kid. I just believe in second chances is all. Call me a sap all you want."

The kid gave him a quick glance, looking unsure. "And you're sure you're not going to hold me?"

James signed. "Yeah, Kid, I'm sure. What, do you want to spend the night in a holding cell?"

He started to shake his head no before stopping. The kid opened his mouth and then closed it again. He squirmed in his seat, the cuff rattling.

"What?"

"Well," the kid started, eyes darting around, "it's not that I want to be arrested⏤ or that I don't appreciate your help, Officer," he added quickly, "it's just⏤" he cut himself off again, gesturing vaguely.

"Just what?" James asked, leaning in slightly. If there was someone this kid was afraid of going back to without cash from the night, he was going to do something about it, approved tactics be damned.

"It's...getting late," the kid said finally, giving James a quick look, pleaded with him to understand what he wasn't saying.

"And?" James pressed, gently but firmly.

"And traffic was slow tonight, I don't think there's going to be anyone there when I get back." He stared at James harder.

"I'm not sure I'm getting what you're laying down."

The kid seemed to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at James' lingo. "The shelters are going to be full by now," he paused and James came to the correct conclusion seconds before the kid finished, "And it's a little cold to spend the night in the park."

James closed his eyes. Of all the ways he had imagined helping people as a cop, charging a kid with something that would follow him around forever in order to keep him alive through the night was not on the list. He sighed, opened his eyes, and nodded to the kid. "On second thought," he told him grimly, "I think this might be a good learning opportunity, to teach you not to mess around in dangerous situations. I'm going to hold you overnight. Understand, young man? Do you think that will get the message across?'

"Yes, Sir," the kid responded, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since he'd been arrested.

He delivered the kid, Klaus he supposed he should be calling him, to the holding cell, thankful for the small mercy of it being a slow night. The only people he would have to share with were an older homeless man whose tattered baseball cap named him a veteran, and a drunk college student who was busy sleeping it off.

James held the door to the cell open, gesturing Klaus through. As he locked the door behind him, Klaus whispered, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Kid."

Officer Parton disappeared around the corner and Klaus sagged onto the unoccupied bench, rubbing his eyes and smearing what was left of his makeup beyond repair. He looked almost like he was wearing the old Academy domino mask again. From outside the bars, Ben watched him silently.

"What?"

Ben shook his head.

"You were the one who said I couldn't sleep outside tonight," Klaus argued half-heartedly.

"One," Ben stated tersely, "We agreed you couldn't sleep outside tonight. And two," he was getting louder now and Klaus was vaguely glad no one else could hear, "I said you should go to a shelter."

"Am I not sheltered from the cold?"

"Not the time, Klaus."

"Oh come on, Ben," he rolled his eyes, flopping himself dramatically down so that he was lying on his back on the bench, "It's one night in a cell, this is hardly the worst situation I could be in."

"That's the point!"

Oops, ok, so Ben might be a little more mad than Klaus had realized.

"You could have been killed, Klaus! You knew there was something wrong with that guy⏤ that's why you waited over an hour before going up to him! You're damn lucky he was a cop and not some psycho who chopped you up into bits and dumped you in the river!"

Klaus rolled his eyes, "And you say I'm dramatic. If you remember, Ben, he wasn't haunted. It was highly unlikely that he was a murder. Or a potential one," he added, hoping the jokingly patronizing tone he used would hide how he was talking to himself just as much as he was Ben. He continued in constructed carelessness, "Really, the chances of someone actually being murdered are pretty low⏤ "

"You know as well as I do, Klaus, that someone does not have to be a murder to hurt you," Ben said, his low voice cutting through Klaus' bullshitting with razor precision. Klaus went quiet, his attempt at distraction flicking out, and Ben continued, "Do you have any idea how much of a risk you took, Klaus? Are you really that uncaring about your own safety? What were you thinking ?"

Klaus didn't say anything for several long beats. Finally, he whispered, his eyes fixed on the ghost in the corner, the torn bed sheet still wrapped around his bruised neck, "You know what I was thinking, Ben."

The ghost looked at Ben, his bloodshot eyes wild with panic, like he was still suffocating. Ben deflated. "I do," he admitted, slipping through the bars. "Move down," he commanded softly, waving his hand down the bench. Klaus scooted obediently, curling onto his side, leaving a small area of bench free by his head. Ben sat down, leaning back against the wall, his hand resting a hair's bread from Klaus. "Just," he started, almost pleading, " please be more careful Klaus."

Klaus hummed but didn't respond.

"I need someone to take me to the library," Ben joked flatly, his smile strained.

Klaus have a hollow, "Ha." He grinned bitterly, "I knew you only hang around me for the perks."

They fell silent after that. Despite the hardness of the bench and the man leering from the corner, Klaus was more comfortable than he'd been in days. He was warm at least.

As Klaus slept, Ben watched the specter in the corner. He couldn't make him leave, but his glare kept the man from coming any closer.

Upstairs, James returned to his desk, and stared blankly at his desktop for half an hour until, laughing at what he thought was simple exhaustion, his commander dismissed James early to go warm up and get rest. After all, he "deserved it".

At home, James crept silently into the entryway, letting his boots drop with a soft thud against the carpet. Padding down the hallway in socks, he gently cracked open the door to his son's bedroom. The sliver of light fell against the calm scene. Charlie was asleep, his mouth open slightly, thick curls in a messy halo around his head. James closed the door, careful not to disturb his unguarded rest.

In his own room, James assured his half-awake wife that everything was fine as he slipped into bed beside her. She fell back asleep almost immediately while James stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows swirl as a few lonely cars quietly rolled past on the street below. It wasn't until the gray of dawn tinged the far corner of the bedroom that he fell asleep.

He woke up later than he'd intended, even with it being his day off.

"Morning, sleepy," his wife teased as he stumbled into the kitchen. "Even Charlie and Sam were up before you. Do you want chocolate chip or plain?" She gestured to the griddle where half a dozen pancakes were cooking. From the living room, James could hear the muffled sound of the tv and his children's voices.

"Thanks, Molly, but I need to run out quick," he told her as he picked up his boots from the front hall.

"Run out?" She appeared around the doorframe, still holding the spatula. "For what?"

"I forgot some paperwork at the precinct last night."

"Do you need to go now? You could at least have breakfast first."

"Thanks, Honey, but I just want to get it out of the way so we can enjoy the whole day." The smile she gave him made his stomach squirm in guilt. It wasn't like he was lying to do anything wrong , he reasoned as he slid out the door, snagging his coat. Pulling out of the driveway, he said a quick prayer he wasn't going to be late. He did still have a stop to make before heading to the precinct.

"You're free to go." The officer behind the glass barely looked up as she passed the plastic bag with Klaus' things back to him.

"Thanks," he muttered, popping his stiff neck as he walked away. As he made his way outside, he dug through his bag, checking that everything was still there. In his distraction, he didn't notice Officer Parton coming up the steps as he went down.

The kid almost walked directly into him, his head half buried in the patched up messenger bag he carried. James caught his arms before they collided, steadying him as he stumbled. The kid's head whipped up and he flinched. James let go quickly. Klaus blinked at him in surprise and James found himself doubting if his plan was a good idea.

"Uh, everything still there?" he asked, pointing awkwardly at the bag.

"Um, yeah, I think so," Klaus answered, giving him a once over.

There was an awkward pause before James thrust out the somewhat crumpled paper bag he was carrying. "Here."

Klaus stared at it, his stomach contorting painfully in hunger at the greasy, salty smell wafting through the air. He looked back to James, not understanding.

"I owe you breakfast." If I can't do anything else, James assured himself, at least I'm sending him off with a meal. "I know they don't feed you if you're just in for the night."

Klaus knew that nothing came for free, but fuck he was hungry. He reached out slowly. The sound the bag made as it crumpled in his hand was deafening in the bubble of silence that surround them where they stood locked in place on the steps of the station. "Thank you," he whispered, keeping his eyes locked on James, waiting for the rug to be pulled out from beneath him.

"This isn't right," Ben whispered urgently behind him. "Get out of here, Klaus."

Klaus unintentionally gripped his bag a little tighter, pulling it close to his chest. "Well, um, I guess I should get going." He scanned the street behind the cop, assuring himself that nothing was going to happen in broad daylight in front of the station.

"Right," James agreed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He stepped to the side, letting the kid pass. With one last hesitant look, the kid started to walk away. "Be careful!" James called after him.

Klaus jumped, casting a nervous look over his shoulder. "Yes, Sir," he managed to say before picking up the pace and hurrying down the street. He forced himself to walk until he made it around the corner. Out of sight, he burst into a run, not stopping until he was a few blocks away.

He ducked into an alleyway and wedged himself in the corner were a dumpster met the wall. He wasn't sure if it was hunger, cold, or fear that made his hands shake as he pulled open the bag⏤ probably some unholy combination of all three. Inside there were three potato pancakes, the paper they were wrapped in blotted heavily in grease; a few crumpled packets of ketchup; and a mildly squashed breakfast sandwich. Nothing suspicious. Well, Klaus reasoned, it wasn't his fault if some weird cop with a Pretty Woman complex wanted to waste his money playing savior. He stuffed half of a hash-brown into his mouth, almost choking in his rush. He barely noticed how they'd gone lukewarm and slightly soggy.

James watched the kid turn the corner. One of the beat cops recognized him, calling out in surprise, "What the hell are you doing here on your day off?"

"Hey, Bill, I just forgot something last night," James said with a forced laugh.

"Well hurry up and get it so you can go home," Bill told him shaking his head with a grin, "That beautiful family of yours shouldn't be kept waiting."

"Roger that."

James repeated the story twice more as he made his way through the bullpen. Grabbing a random and useless file off his desk, James wished the detectives huddled around the coffee pot good luck and headed back uptown.

Coming back through the door of his home, James heard the children bickering over what takeout they should get for dinner tonight, and for once he wasn't annoyed. Thank God that's all they have to worry about, he thought, turning into the living room to put Charlie in charge of picking the food and Sam the movie.

Back on the south side, Klaus got into a car, ignoring the furious and helpless look Ben gave him from the backseat. "Now tell me, Darling, what's a handsome man like you doing all alone?"

**A/N:**

**FUN FACT: Article 230 is the penal code that outlaws prostitution in New York. **

**Thank you for reading! I appreciate any and all feedback that you're willing to give!**


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